


Nervous?

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [36]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, oh no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: WhyisDarcy's boyfriend acting so weird?
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 285
Kudos: 504





	1. The End?

**Author's Note:**

> *I own nothing!

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, Alpha:** Still on for tonight?

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Why, do you need to cancel?

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, Alpha:** No. Confirming.

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Still on. :)

  
  


* * *

“Brock’s being weird today,” Darcy told Jane before she left. His messages had been cryptic.

“Yeah?” Jane said distantly. She’d gotten a new instrument for measuring planetary movement and had been distracted all day. Fury was good about giving her all the fanciest toys, since they’d joined SHIELD as the organization rebuilt. It had been touch and go after that whole Nazi thing. But they had federal funding back. Enough to woo Jane into giving up her years-long grudge and actually put her own face on a SHIELD badge. Darcy had been shocked.

“I wonder what that’s about?” Darcy said, more to herself than Jane. It was probably work-related. She and Brock had been together for a few months now, so Darcy had picked up on some workplace tension. Since he’d been revealed as a secret triple agent and reclaimed stolen HYDRA tech for Fury under his Crossbones alias, they’d let him work as a normal agent again. But that didn’t mean everyone at SHIELD trusted him. Sometimes, they even avoided him in the hallways and at lunch. Darcy had plenty of time to think about it as she drove over to meet Brock for dinner.

Darcy saw him first. She’d stopped near the empty hostess station to scan the restaurant’s tables. Brock was sitting in the far corner, face in shadow because he was leaning back. The light above cast a golden circle over his forearms. He moved his beer glass and absently rolled it between his hands, thumbs making trails in the condensation on the tall glass. A nervous habit, she knew. She was tempted to text and ask him what had him so jumpy and distracted that he’d missed her arrival. He usually seemed to track her from the parking lot. Darcy grinned to herself as the waitress walked over. She waited a beat. As the waitress walked away, he smoothed down his dark hair gently and glanced out the nearest window, frowning. Definitely nerves. But why was Brock--usually so calm--jumpy? Darcy really wanted to know. She tapped out a message, then approached the table from it’s only blind spot. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Something bothering you, handsome?

She watched as he frowned at his phone, tapping quickly. She was halfway across the room when her phone dinged to indicate a message.

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, Alpha:** No. Where you at, baby?

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Behind you!

She reached up to ruffle his hair and he swung around alertly, eyes on her face. “Shit, I didn’t realize you were here,” he said. 

“Oh, I’ve been here awhile,” she said. “What’s got you all anxious?”

“Nothing,” he said smoothly. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, sliding into the booth. She tilted her head wryly. “But you can’t break up with me here, I like the milkshakes too much. Don’t ruin it for me.” She expected him to laugh--or give her one of those classic Rumlow smirks. Instead his face went still. Too still. “Oh God, you’re breaking up with me?” she said. 

“Darcy,” he said, sighing. 


	2. It Feels Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Where would you get that idea?” Brock said, frowning at her. Darcy felt a rush of relief--then confusion.

“You’ve been a little distant, that’s all,” she told him. “So, that makes me paranoid and then”--she waved her hands sheepishly--”I jump to conclusions, like, oh, this is the dumping speech.”

“Uh-huh,” he said dryly, smirking at her. “I gave a speech? I don’t remember giving a speech?”

“Your face did a thing that precedes a speech,” she insisted, feeling herself grin and blush at the same time. God, this was embarrassing. She’d just outed herself as the more infatuated of the two of them. Obviously. Wasn’t it Mindy Kaling’s mom who said the thing about one person in a couple always being more in love? And how it was better to be the less in love person? Or was that Olympia Dukakis in _Moonstruck?_

“Sure,” Brock said, irritatingly smug-looking now.

“Stop that,” Darcy said, pretending to glare. God, he was too handsome. That was their problem: he was astonishingly hot. She watched as he rubbed his jaw, looking skeptical. He was wearing several silver rings and it actually looked sexy, instead of tacky and dumb.

“You okay now?” Brock said. “Or do I need to get you one of those milkshakes?” Darcy huffed when he winked at her. That seemed to amuse him. “Do you think people break up in places like this?” he said out loud, gesturing to the movie posters on the wall. She had picked the restaurant. “I mean maybe they breakup because their date picks this place,” he said teasingly. 

“Don’t slander the Red Robin,” she sassed him. “Their french fries are great and I like the strawberry lemonade.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. He seemed fine after that, if a bit quieter than usual. It bothered her a little, but she tried to be funny and make him smile. It seemed to work. She pushed away her worries until they were crossing the parking lot.

“So?” she said, squeezing his hand. Usually, by now he would’ve invited her to his place or vice versa. “Are you coming home with me?” He sighed.

“I’ve got an early call tomorrow, princess,” he said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Too bad.”

“Yeah,” he said. He kissed her lightly and told her to drive safely. Darcy was pulling out of the parking lot when she looked back in her rearview mirror and saw he was standing next to his Jeep, talking on his phone.

“Have I just been kissed off?” Darcy asked herself. Out loud. She was so distracted as she drove through the shopping center that she had to break quickly to avoid someone rolling through a stop sign at the four-way stop near the movie theater. “Shit,” she muttered, heart racing. She was rattled and needed to focus. Darcy pulled into the nearest parking space and texted Jane.  
  


* * *

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Brock’s breaking up with me. He won’t say it, but he is. Also, I’m so freaking distracted, some asshole in a Lexus almost t-boned me between the Carmike and the Ann Taylor. I had to pull over.

 **Let’s Get Astrophysical:** Oh, Darce, I’m sorry. Do you need me to pick you up? Don’t drive upset, it’s dangerous.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** No, I’ll be okay. I’m taking a minute. I’ll drive slowly.

* * *

When she had reassured Jane, Darcy turned on the radio, just to have other voices to keep her mind off Brock. Jane had borrowed her car to move equipment and left it on NPR. As the nighttime DJ talked about jazz, she started to cry at a red light.


	3. You Okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was dreading seeing him at work the next day. She woke up and shuffled to the coffee pot, sighing heavily. She hadn’t been able to not cry in bed. And she was an ugly cryer. It would be obvious, she thought. Her nose was all puffy and her eyes were still bloodshot. “Hey,” she said to Jane, as Jane stirred a few minutes later, followed by Thor. “Coffee?” she said turning to look at them. Her misery must’ve been obvious.

“Oh, no,” Jane said. “Darce--”

“Would you like a hug?” Thor offered gently. They must’ve talked about it. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, stumbling into a sad little group hug. “I’ll be okay,” she said, trying to not cry again. 

“You should confront him,” Jane said, turning fierce on a dime. “He shouldn’t be able to ghost like this on you. It’s unfair--unfair and wrong.” She stressed the last word.

“Yeah,” Darcy whispered. 

“That asshole,” Jane said, clearly fuming and warming up for a rant.

“Jane,” Thor said, attempting delicacy. “Perhaps we ought to talk of other things--?” Darcy beamed at him through her tear-blurred vision.

“Your mom would be so proud of you right now,” Darcy told him. “Very diplomatic.” An expression of pride flitted across Thor’s face before he frowned again.

“We do not want you to be sad,” he told her in that same kind voice. A flinty-eyed Jane was staring off into middle distance and Darcy just knew she was thinking of ways to send Brock into space without a suit. She shook her head at both of them.

“I’m going to confront him,” Darcy said. “Today. I won’t let this drag on.”

* * *

She made good on her vow before lunch, going upstairs to the open floor plan room where STRIKE Alpha had desks. That made it worse, somehow. Darcy yearned for a private office. She looked through the glass door. Brock was talking to one of the other agents, facing away from her. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, stepping inside the office. She felt acutely conscious of peoples’ eyes on her, as she threaded between desks. “Excuse me,” she repeated, meeting several tactical-clad dudes. By the time she got to Brock’s desk in the middle of the room, the agent talking to him was smiling at her. “Hi,” Darcy said, then realized Brock had his hand held out to her---even though he was still facing the other agent, talking about some work issue. 

“We’ll handle the political issues. You remember my girl, Darcy Lewis?” Brock said, gesturing at Darcy. She frowned as she took his hand and to her surprise, he guided her into his lap.

“Rodriguez,” the agent said, grinning and shaking her hand.

“I work with Jane Foster,” Darcy supplied, perched on one of Brock’s thighs. He still hadn’t really looked at her or spoken to her directly, but she could feel his hand on her hip.

“You know how the fucking funding situation is,” Brock said, slapping his outer thigh with his other hand. “Always something.” 

“Yeah,” Rodriguez said. Darcy thought Rodriguez looked like he wanted to step away, but Brock asked him a question about one of their meetings. They talked for several minutes. It left her sitting on his lap, feeling foolish. Like a kid. Also, his knee was bony. She wiggled. 

“Where you going?” Brock said, finally turning his head to look at her.

“Your knees are like knives,” Darcy said. That made Rodriguez laugh. 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. “Don’t neglect your girl, Rumlow.”

“He is neglecting me, isn’t he?” Darcy said. “Where can I file a report around here?” 

“You enjoying busting my chops?” Brock asked her when Rodriguez walked away, laughing. He said it in a surprisingly warm voice. 

“Possibly,” Darcy said. He grinned at her--and Darcy realized there was familiar blue box on his desk.

“Pop Tarts?” she said. 

“These are yours. I saw ‘em at the store last night, picked ‘em up for you,” Brock said. 

“Fruit Loops,” Darcy said, when he handed her the box. She looked at him in surprise. “You got me Fruit Loop Pop Tarts?”

“They’re limited edition,” he said, then tried to hide a yawn. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, anxieties momentarily forgotten. She realized he looked a little tired. “You okay?” As soon as she spoke, he grimaced.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just a long day. We started early and uh--” he said, rubbing his jaw. That was when Darcy realized the back of his hand was bandaged.

“What happened?” she said, concerned.

“It’s nothing,” Brock said. “Minor injury. Field thing.” 

“Okay,” Darcy said. She thought he was underplaying his injury. It was something in his expression.

“Did you just come up to see me, princess?” he said, smirking. She made a face. He always teased her with that nickname. Darcy insisted she was practical and not at all princessy.

“Maybe,” Darcy sassed him, then paused. She’d realized she couldn’t directly ask him if they were breaking up. One, because it was so public, and two, because people didn’t usually dump you after buying special Pop Tarts. Especially guys who didn’t eat carbs or processed foods. “Did you want to get lunch?” she offered.

“I’d love to, baby, but I have to, uh, go home and pack,” he said. He sighed. “I’ve got a workshop at the New York field office, so I’ll be up there for a few days.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, feeling awkward. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell you. These are your apology Pop Tarts. I might have to miss your birthday dinner.” Darcy was turning thirty-four at the end of the week. She, Jane, and Thor always went out for a nice dinner on their birthdays. She'd invited him, too.

“Oh,” she said, more sadly. He was grimacing again.

“I’ll take you out when I get back, okay?” he said. His voice was strangely flat. “It can just be us.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, nodding and trying to smile. There were people all around them. “That’ll be good. More romantic?” she offered, seizing on an excuse and throwing it out like a lifeline.

“Absolutely,” he said, smiling. He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Much more romantic."

  
  



	4. Miss You!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Brock has a SHIELD thing in New York this week. He’s going to miss my birthday dinner, but I don’t think he’s breaking up with me,” Darcy whispered to Jane, back in the lab. “You wouldn’t buy Pop Tarts for somebody you were breaking up with, right?” She showed Jane the box.

“Nope,” Jane said, studying the box. “Typical. SHIELD makes you think your boyfriend’s breaking up with you and steals him on your birthday. It’s 2011 all over again.”

“Jane,” Darcy said, giggling, “this is not Mass Spectrometer Two: Electric Boogaloo.” She sighed. “I still feel like something’s happening, though. He had bandages on his hands--”

“Ah,” Jane said, mouth opening. There was a rap on the glass wall. Darcy looked back. Brock was standing there, rolling suitcase next to his leg. 

“Oh,” she said, hoping they hadn’t been overheard. She hopped up and went to the door. “Hey,” she said brightly. “You want to come in for a sec?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling briefly before he frowned, “but I can’t--I gotta go through fucking security at Dulles. I wanted to bring you your birthday present before I left.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, unable to keep the note of disappointment out of her voice. He reached down and retrieved something hidden behind his suitcase. It was a sparkly gift bag from one of those bath and body stores. Champagne and pink polka dots. “It’s cute,” she said, honestly pleased. There were several matching champagne-scented products inside. The labels read happy birthday. She loved champagne. 

“You like it? The woman at the store helped me,” he said, smiling wryly. “I had no fucking idea what you’d want in your bathtub, but I know how you feel about prosecco.” 

“This is a good start,” Darcy said. “But only a start.”

“Yeah?” he said, frowning. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“I want you in a bathtub,” she told him quietly. She felt him grin as he kissed her cheek and turned her head to chase his mouth. They were sort of making a spectacle of themselves in the R&D hallway when he pulled back. His phone was beeping. 

“Shit,” he said. “I gotta go. Don’t, uh, run off with anybody while I’m gone?” 

“I can’t make promises--” Darcy started to joke, when she realized his expression was oddly serious. “Okay, I won’t,” she told him, making sure her voice was playful.

“Good,” he said, giving her a tiny, fleeting smile. He kissed her again, more lightly, then stepped back. “I’ll try to call,” he said. “I don’t know if they’ll let me have a phone.”

“I’ll just text you and leave you annoying voicemails every day,” she told him. “You’ll be sick of me.”

“Not gonna happen, sweetheart,” he said. She waved as he wheeled his suitcase away. He didn’t look happy.

* * *

“He’s not breaking up with you,” Jane told her, as soon as the lab door shut behind Darcy. “I saw that kiss!”

“But what’s going on?” Darcy wondered, carrying in her Bath and Body Works bag.

“This is probably some time-waster of a workshop that could’ve been an email,” Jane said grimly. “You know how those are. And he feels guilty about being gone on your birthday?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “This is my birthday present.” She wiggled the bag.

“What scent did he get you?”

“Champagne Toast,” Darcy said. “Want to smell it?” She passed Jane the cream.

“Ooooh,” Jane said, smelling the cap. “That’s nice. Celebratory.”

“Use some, I’ve got plenty,” Darcy said. She spent all day smelling her arm and smiling. At home that evening, she sent him a text and a photo of herself in the bathtub, surrounded by bubbles.

* * *

Brock checked into his hotel room, unpacked his belongings, and took a nap in his sweatpants. Going through airport security, waiting in lines, and flying had annoyed and fatigued him more than usual. It was strange to fly commercial and not to see tactical gear in his luggage. He’d been told to pack civilian things for this trip. He woke up with that slightly disoriented feeling, uncertain if it was day or night. He checked his watch when he sat up. Four in the morning. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He’d been hoping to catch Darcy before she fell asleep. “Damn it,” he said, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like shit. He brewed coffee in the little hotel coffee pot, sighing. As Brock sat on the bed with a cup, he checked his phone. She’d texted him, just like she’d said she would. First there was a series of Darcy making funny faces in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. He grinned when he saw sly messages in crayon above her head. When had she bought bath crayons? Then there was a series of selfies of she, Thor, and Jane in their pajamas having something she called a “cereal tasting mini party.” The last image of her grinning over a spoon of marshmallows and brightly colored cereal was followed by a text. 

_ I miss you! _

“Fuck,” he said, realizing his eyes had welled up. He knew it was too late to call, so he sent her back a brief text, blinking. 

_ I miss you, too. See you soon.  _


	5. Break Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was making her first round of coffee in the break room when she ran into Sharon Carter. “Hey,” she said brightly. She liked Sharon. She’d just returned from a posting overseas.

“I hear it’s your birthday this week?” Sharon said. 

“Did Steve tell you?” Darcy asked. She knew Steve and Sharon were close.

“Cam, actually,” Sharon said. 

“Oh, I love Cam. And Steve. But Cam’s adorable,” she said.

“Yup,” Sharon said, smiling and nodding. 

“I am having a birthday. It’s not one of the exciting ones, I’m just thirty four,” Darcy said, shrugging. 

“No big party plans?” Sharon said.

“Just dinner--speaking of, do you know any good restaurants? I’m not super fancy, but I like to go somewhere nice on birthdays,” Darcy asked. They spent several minutes discussing various DC restaurants and the pros and cons. 

“That’s one where you’ll see half the Senate, but the food’s good,” Sharon said, mentioning a four-star place.

“Is it so stuffy that if I spill wine on my shirt, I’m gonna feel self-conscious all night?” Darcy asked.

“Possibly,” Sharon admitted.

“Okay, off the list!” Darcy said. “But this Italian place sounds fun.”

“Speaking of Italians, say hi to Brock for me and that I forgive him for this scar,” Sharon said jokingly, gesturing to her forearm.

“What?” Darcy said, shocked.

“He sort of stabbed me during the Uprising. It was a cut really,” she added, “he was undercover at the time. No worries!”

“Oh my God, I have to give him a hard time!” Darcy said. “He’s in New York for that workshop this week, but I can text him.”

“Workshop?” Sharon said. “There’s no--I mean, I haven’t heard about a workshop? They usually copy me on those emails.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, shrugging. “I really don’t know. He left yesterday, it all sounded very last minute.”

“Huh,” Sharon said. “Maybe I just missed it.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, feeling a knot in her stomach. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” When Sharon left the break room, Darcy looked at Brock’s text on her phone. She dialed. 

* * *

Brock stood on the sidewalk in front of SHIELD’s New York field office. He glanced up at the high rise and sighed. He’d transferred from here. Never thought he’d come back for this. He hoped that he wouldn’t see anyone that he knew, then scoffed at his own naivety. The building was full of old colleagues. This was impossible to keep out of the gossip mill. He’d have to tell Darcy, he thought--

His phone vibrated. It was her face onscreen. He answered with a grimace. “Hey, baby,” he said. 

“Hi,” Darcy said. “I didn’t know if you could answer.” She sounded surprised.

“I’ve only got a minute,” he said, internally cursing his own cowardice. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. He could hear her disappointment. 

“I miss you so fucking much,” he said hurriedly, trying to undo the damage. 

“Yeah?” she said. “Well, Sharon Carter was just recommending some place called Obelisk for my birthday--”

“Obelisk?” he said, frowning. Obelisk wasn’t a Darcy sort of place. He sighed. If she went, she’d be letdown, he thought. 

“Also, she wanted to say she forgives you for stabbing her. I’m learning all kinds of new stuff today--” Darcy was saying.

“I think you’d hate it,” he said bluntly. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Okay.”

“Just go to one of your fun places,” he told her. It came out more sternly than he intended. There was a beat of silence on the line. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that,” he said. “I just want you to have a good time on your birthday, okay? I feel bad that I’m not gonna fucking be there and---”

“S’okay,” Darcy said quietly.

“Please don’t fucking cry,” he said. “I’m begging you.”

“I’m not crying,” she said, clearly crying. 

“I didn’t mean to snap, I’m sorry,” Brock told her. “I’m sorry this whole week has gone sideways.”

“What’s going on?” Darcy said, lowering her voice. “Sharon said there’s no workshop?”

“Fuck,” he said. “Listen, this is--there are things you shouldn’t talk about on the phone, okay? We’ll talk when I get back, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“I, uh, I--I really have to go,” he told her, wanting to say  _ I love you,  _ but feeling like his throat was too tight to manage it. 

“Okay,” she repeated. 

“I’ll call you,” he insisted.

* * *

If he’d thought he could get inside the building without being seen, he was mistaken. The front desk security guard recognized him immediately. “Commander Rumlow!” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hi, Bobby,” Brock said, trying to be cool and calm as he checked in. “I’m up here all the time,” he lied casually. “My family’s in the Bronx.”

“Oh, right,” Bobby said. “You here for the big wigs.”

“Nope,” Brock said, trying for casual. “Eighth floor.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Bobby said. He smiled widely at Brock. “She’s a real special lady.”

  
  
  



	6. Coping Mechanisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy had been running a pre-lunch errand for Jane when Brock called her. Now she was in her car in the middle of a Panera Bread parking lot, trying to hold it together. He’d snapped at her and then immediately apologized. She’d been feeling fairly okay before the phone call, despite Sharon’s accidental reveal that there was no workshop. But that had made her tear up a little. She hadn’t actually cried, she’d just been taken aback. And he’d seemed to realize it. “Shit,” Darcy said. “Shit!” She slapped the steering wheel in irritation. She always cried first, then got mad later. Now she was angry with Brock for keeping some important secret. And she had suspicions that something serious was happening--was he being punished for something? Had there been a field accident? He’d have to keep that confidential, she reflected, her anger ebbing a fraction. She couldn’t blame him if it was something work related and he couldn’t tell her on the phone or in a restaurant. But--she reminded herself that it could be something totally different, too. What the hell was going on? She was so out of sorts, she texted Jane. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I will bring you back lunch from Panera if you give me thirty minutes to fume at Brock in the bookstore across the parking lot.

 **Let’s Get Astrophysical:** Deal. I’ll take a Mediterranean veggie and any new books that look good.

 **Let’s Get Astrophysical:** But what did he do?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** He was grumps on the phone. Unintentionally. I think? I’m going to buy myself some presents to cope and then I’m going to yell at him when he gets back.

 **Let’s Get Astrophysical:** You’re in the mad phase now, huh?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Yup. 

Wandering through the bookstore, Darcy picked up several books for she and Jane’s shared library. She thought they’d both want to read Trevor Noah’s memoir and a book called _The Color of Law_ by Richard Rothstein. But her comfort reading was food and travel memoirs and cookbooks. She got distracted in the history section, picking up Mary McAuliffe’s latest book, _When Paris Sizzled._ On a whim, she was looking at a book on ice cream cakes when she felt her phone vibrate in her messenger bag. She assumed it was Jane, changing her lunch order. Sometimes, she changed her mind. 

* * *

Brock rode the elevator to the eighth floor. When the doors opened, he was hit with a burst of cool, sterile air. They still kept this floor regulated, he remembered. He turned and moved automatically towards the office, opening the door for the small reception area. “Hi,” he said to the man behind the desk, “Commander Rumlow checking in for my appointment.” 

“We have paperwork for you,” the guy told him, passing him a tablet after he swiped his SHIELD badge. In his peripheral vision, employees came in and out of the back. “Just follow the screen prompts,” the man said. 

“Thanks,” Brock said. They had him sign in on a tablet and fill out several pages of electronic paperwork. He caught his foot moving repetitively and smiled sheepishly at the two people behind the desk. “Sorry,” Brock said. 

“You’re fine,” the woman said, smiling gently.

“I hope so,” Brock said. As he waited, he texted Darcy. It helped him quell the nausea in his gut.

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, Alpha:** Sweetheart, I just wanted to say, I really want you tp have a good birthday.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, Alpha:** Shit. To. That’s a typo.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, Alpha:** I’m sitting here in this office

“Commander Rumlow,” someone said. He looked up, mid-text. A woman in SHIELD scrubs smiled at him. “She’ll see you now.”

“Thank you,” Brock said. He quickly added a note to Darcy.

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, Alpha:** I’ll call tonight.

He realized he was holding his breath as she led him back. They walked through the swinging doors and he was hit with a wave of emotions. He’d blocked out so many of his memories here. She was working at a desk next to her exam table. She glanced up and smiled brightly. “Hey, how’s my star patient?” she said, standing up.

“Hi, Helen,” Brock said.

“I’m running more specialized biopsies on the samples they took in DC,” Helen Cho told him. “But I want to run a full spectrum of tests, just to see what’s happening.” She pulled on a glove. “Which means I need your blood, pal,” she said, as the glove snapped.

“Sure,” Brock said, with false calm. He touched the biopsy bandages on the back of his hand reflexively.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of needles,” Helen said.

“No,” he said. “Not needles.”

“No?” she said, starting the blood draw. He watched his blood feed into the tubes.

“Results, those are what I’m afraid of,” he said in his driest voice. Helen made a fail buzzer sound.

“Don’t be so defeatist, Agent Hottle, I’m the miracle doctor, remember?” she said. “You don’t usually give me attitude.”

“I’m, uh, seeing somebody seriously--” he began. Helen grinned.

“I wasn’t actually trying to pick you up, that’s an ethics violation,” she said.

“No, I mean, I haven’t told her,” Brock said. “She, uh, doesn’t know and I don’t know how I’ll tell her if it is cancer or something worse.” He’d pitched his voice low. He was worried about serum failure. Helen was switching tubes and looked at him.

“You could tell her in person,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Or singing telegram? Maybe a skywriter?” Helen said.

“You are such a wiseass,” Brock said, grinning in spite of himself. “I haven’t told you that it’s Jane Foster’s assistant--”

“Darcy?” Helen said, beaming. He nodded.

“She’s so--” he began, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Wonderful.”

“Young enough to be your daughter, you dog,” she snarked at the same time. “Oooh, you’re feeling the age difference, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted. 

“You’ll be fine,” she said.

“You don’t know that,” Brock grumbled.

“Excuse me, you’re my star patient,” Helen said. “I’m keeping you around, asshole. Don’t you try to fight me, I’ll call in a favor and get you vibranium replacement parts.”

“I thought that stuff was only in Cap’s shield?” Brock said.

“Shows what you know,” Helen said.


	7. Is Somebody In Trouble?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I just can’t sit here eating salad,” Darcy said. She’d taken two bites of her salad and put down her fork. Jane looked up from her sandwich.

“I thought you like that salad?” she said.

“It’s not the Thai chicken, it’s Brock,” Darcy said, sighing. “I’ve got to figure this out.” She stood up. “I’m going downstairs to get some answers,” she added, putting her salad in the mini fridge they kept for ice cream. “Can you get Thor here in the next half-hour?”

“Okay?” Jane said slowly. At Darcy’s look, she quickly added. “I’ll phone down to the gym and get him."

“Thank you! I’ll be back!” Darcy called. She left the lab, made a right, and hustled to the bank of elevators. Everyone knew where the real power at SHIELD was. And it wasn’t Fury’s office on one of the higher floors. Or the guys in black suits. Nope, the real seat of power was on floor five. Darcy took a deep breath as she pushed open the glass door and walked into the data and analytics office. She found the man she was looking for in the third row. He had on headphones, so she tapped him on the shoulder gently.

“Darcy?” Cameron Klein said.

“I’m looking for a man and I’m here to bribe you with brownies,” Darcy said.

“Will any man do?” the analyst next to Cam joked.

“What?” Cam said at the same time.

“Nope,” Darcy said, grinning. “I need you to tell me where my boyfriend is, right this moment.”

“Ooooh,” the analyst said. “Is somebody in trouble?”

“Commander Rumlow?” Cam said, swallowing nervously.

“Yes and no,” Darcy said. “Yes, Brock--I need to talk to him--and no, he’s not in trouble. He’s just being weird,” she said, fully aware that the other analyst was looking at her like she was nuts. She smiled at Cam. “I won’t rat you out,” she said. “Brownies.”

“Brownies,” Cam repeated. “I’ve got your word?”

“Completely,” Darcy said.

* * *

“So, the good news,” Helen said. Brock’s head snapped up. “I was right--the DC lab’s test for cancer cells flagged you for melanoma because you’ve got serum-enhanced cells that replicate rapidly. But you’ve got a different kind of mutation going on, pal.” 

“It’s not cancer?” he said hopefully.

“Nope,” Helen said. His shoulders eased as he was flooded with relief. “Just a regular ugly mole. You should probably wear sunscreen more often, though.”

“I’m Italian,” Brock complained, feeling almost giddy.

“Tell that to the sun,” Helen scolded. He grinned at her.

“I don’t have skin cancer,” he said.

“You don’t have skin cancer,” Helen said.

“What’s the bad news?” he said. She reached over and pulled a patient gown out of drawer. 

“That doesn’t explain your fatigue,” she told him. “So, you’ve got to put one of these on while we run some different tests and we wait for your bloodwork.”

“I hate these things,” Brock said. “Can I keep my damn underwear on?”

“You’re no fun,” Helen told him, laughing. “But yes.” She tossed him something. He caught it. “Good reflexes still,” Helen said. “Congratulations, you get a free pair of white socks.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly. 

“The radiology tech will be back to get you for your chest x-ray,” Helen told him as she left the room. 

“I’ve gotta walk out there in the socks and the gown? Are you just trying to emasculate me?” Brock complained. 

“We would never do that,” Helen said teasingly. 

* * *

Thor was waiting when Darcy went back upstairs to Jane’s lab. “You needed my help?” he said, looking concerned and brave at the same time.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I need to get to New York ASAP.” 

“You’re going to talk to Brock now?” Jane asked.

“Uh-huh, no time like the present,” Darcy said. She looked at Thor and realized something. “Unless you haven’t had lunch yet? He’s at SHIELD headquarters and Cam’s got the tracer going on his phone, so we have time for lunch. I got you a sandwich.” Thor visibly brightened.

“We have time for lunch?” he said, voice turning happily.

“Yes, my dude,” Darcy said, “we always have time for lunch.”

An hour and one lunch later, Thor and Darcy landed with a roll of thunder in front of SHIELD’s New York headquarters. “Oof,” Darcy said, stumbling a little. Thor caught her elbow. “Thank you,” she told him. “And thank you, Mew-Mew.” She patted the hammer.

“You do not want me to go with you?” Thor said. 

“No, I got this,” Darcy said, squaring her shoulders. “I have to talk to him myself.” 

“Still, I could go with you, in case of attack?” Thor said.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She adjusted her messenger bag. “Let’s do this. I don’t want you to smite him--unless he’s in someone’s boobs or something.”

“Aye,” Thor said. “This is fair.”

“And maybe give him five seconds to run before you throw Mew-Mew, even then,” Darcy said. She sighed. “I like him too damn much,” she confessed. 

“You are going soft,” Thor told her.  
  


* * *

Brock was being scanned inside one of Helen’s huge machines--she’d explained it, but he was too conscious of the coldness of the table, the bareness of his legs, and the fatigue he felt to pay attention well--when the door to the room opened. “Commander Rumlow?” a staff member asked.

“Yeah?” he said. He could see the bottom of a figure in scrubs through the hole his bare legs and sock-clad feet were sticking out of. 

“Your girlfriend is here--” she said, before he sat up abruptly and thwacked his head.

“Wha--ow. Motherfucker,” he said. “What?”

“Do you want us to let her up here?” the woman said. “She’s sort of...yelling at security?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Send her up. I wanna see her.”

“Great,” the woman said brightly. He heard her leave the room. Over the whir of the machine, her voice was audible in the hall. “I heard she brought Thor,” the woman said, sounding more excited. “I hope he comes, too.” 

“Great,” Brock said to himself. That must be who brought her to the city, he thought. He listened to the machine work. It reminded him oddly of his annoying document scanner at work. Fifteen minutes later, the technician returned and freed him from the machine.

“Remember your pole,” the technician joked.

“Yeah,” Brock said, smirking. They’d hooked an IV to his arm to give him fluids because he needed to be fasting, so he’d stay hydrated. He was rolling it out to the hall when he heard her voice.

“Brock!” Darcy said, from the end of the hall. She bolted towards him, messenger bag swinging. 

“Hey,” he said, feeling sheepish. He was standing there in a gown and socks, holding a goddamn IV pole. To his surprise, she threw her arms around him.

“I didn’t know this was the medical floor,” Darcy said, suddenly sounding emotional. “I thought you had a meeting. Or a secret girlfriend.”

“Aye,” a voice said. Brock opened his eyes. Around the edges of Darcy’s hair, he saw Thor waving. Several employees were waiting for him to sign items. “She was quite ready for me to smite you.”

“That right?” he said. “You thought I was up here misbehaving?”

“Possibly,” Darcy said, cringing. “Sorry. I was going to give you a five second headstart if I found you in somebody’s boobs,” Darcy said. That made him laugh.

“Who’s?” he said.

“I don’t know--they were imaginary!” she huffed. “Clearly, I’m being crazy because I’m crazy about you.”

“It’s all right,” he said, so happy to see her that he couldn’t even be mad. “I knew you were a little,” he said, doing a so-so gesture with his hand. She giggled.

“I feel so dumb,” Darcy confessed.

“Nah,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. Down the hall, people cheered along with Thor.

“They are reconciled,” he overheard Thor say. “This is most excellent.” He felt Darcy grasp the front of his hospital gown. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, when he pulled back. He nuzzled her face gently. 

“We don’t know yet,” Brock said, “but I think you’ve got me flashing the rest of the floor back there.” They’d made him take off his boxers earlier.

“Whoops,” Darcy said, letting go and peering around him. She sighed. “You’ve got such a cute butt, though. That’s probably the highlight of someone’s day--hi!” She waved at someone behind him.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“Totally the highlight of his day, I saw his face,” Darcy whispered, moving to stand behind Brock and tie the gown tighter. “Where’s your room?”

“Uh--” he began. “This isn’t--”

“Can he get a room?” Darcy yelled to the employee getting Thor to sign a Funko.

“Sure!” she said. It was the same woman he’d spoken to while he was being scanned. “Be right there!”

“See? All you have to do is ask,” Darcy said. 

“And bring Thor,” Brock said.

“Well, yeah,” Darcy admitted.  
  


* * *

They were camped out in a small room with vending machine snacks and several books Darcy had brought when Helen found them. “Thor!” the doctor said, beaming. “It’s so great to see you!”

“She doesn’t smile at me like that,” Brock said to Darcy. Darcy had climbed into the rolling cot with him, snuggling under his chin to read.

“Lies,” Darcy said. “I don’t believe you.” She had been cracking jokes and telling him funny things and generally trying to keep him in good spirits, Brock had realized. Kissing him a lot. That had been a nice distraction. Helen turned to look at them when Thor left to give them privacy--and get more Cheez-Its from the vending machine. “Hi, Helen,” Darcy said, sounding a little tentative.

“Awww, you two look cute together,” Helen said. “I have test results for you, Agent Hottie.”

“See?” Darcy said, visibly perking up at Helen’s manner. “You have a cute nickname.” She grinned at Helen. “Have you seen how amazing his butt is in the gown?” She mimed squeezing fruit.

“Why do you think we make the good-looking agents wear those?” Helen cracked. 

“Can someone just tell me if I’m dying?” Brock said, shaking his head.

“You’re not dying,” Helen said.


	8. Homework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“He’s not?” Darcy said, swallowing. She’d automatically put a hand over her heart. Brock had sat up a fraction, looking intently at Helen.

“Not even a little bit,” Helen said, snorting. “Cute but stupid here--”

“Hey,” Brock and Darcy said together.

“It’s accurate,” Helen said. “He’s exercising excessively, slightly dehydrated, and in need of some rest and relaxation. It is possible to overtrain, you know. Even with serum.”

“What?” Brock said.

“Oh my God, you’ve got adrenal fatigue or something?” Darcy said. 

"What is adrenal fatigue?" he asked, not following. Helen was grinning.

“Technically, there’s conflicting evidence that adrenal fatigue exists, but you’re more or less on the right track,” Helen said. “He _is_ like one of those hundred-pound yoga teachers who only eat kale and green juices and probably feel worn down because they’re eating too little calories for their activity levels. So, I’m giving you an assignment,” she told Darcy. “You’re in charge of making sure he sleeps, eats, and rests. Lots of naps and food and days between gym sessions--”

“What?” Brock said.

“I was made for this job,” Darcy said at the same time, voice joyful. She was beaming.

“Listen to your girlfriend. And I want you to eat things rich in iron, too,” she said to Brock. “Only three or four days a week at the gym, all right? I know you can’t quit cold turkey.”

“Shit,” Brock said. 

“In a month, we’ll recheck you,” Helen said. “But at your age, you should be thinking about exercise efficiency, not just endurance. Remember your knees.”

“His age?” Darcy said. "He's only forty-two!"

“Did you lie to Darcy about your age?” Helen asked, eyes lighting up.

“A little,” Brock admitted, shrugging.

“You’re not forty-two?” Darcy asked.

“Oh, no,” Helen said archly. “He is not.”

“I’m fifty-two,” he muttered in a low voice.

“What?” Darcy said, stunned.

“Fifty-two,” he repeated, more loudly. 

“I heard you!” she said, giggling. “Oh my God, I’m a reverse cougar.” She looked at him. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? He barely has any wrinkles.”

“Barely? Barely?” Brock said. Helen snorted. 

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” she said. “You’re free to go. We’ve scheduled your follow up in the system.”

“Okay,” Brock said. “There’s really nothing major wrong?”

“Nope,” Helen said, going to the door.

“Not even a broken hip?” Darcy said slyly.

“Oh Jesus Christ--” Brock said, realizing he was in for it now. Helen smiled.

“Hey, Helen, would you like Thor to bring you to DC for my birthday dinner?” Darcy said. 

“I’d love that,” Helen said, smiling in what Brock thought was a genuine way.

“Well, I figure we need a doctor on premises if there’ll be excitement, huh?” she looked at Brock. “What do you say, Pop Pop?” she elbowed him. Helen burst out laughing.

“I love her,” she told Brock. 

“Uh-huh,” Brock said grumpily. But he smiled when she'd gone and Darcy leaned over to kiss him again. “Mmm--I gotta get dressed, baby.”

“Do you have to?” she said.

* * *

“Do I have to?” Brock asked the next day, as Darcy waved a fork dangerously close to his nose. He recoiled. “Darcy--” he said. They were sitting in her kitchen. “How many calories are in this?”

“I honestly don’t know. I can’t say,” she said, withdrawing the fork. “I don’t have those numbers.” 

“If you had the containers, I could--” he began, but she shook her head frantically.

“I don’t have them!” Darcy said.

“I’ll eat it!” Jane yelled from the living room.

“Jane, no.” Darcy gave him a sad look and tilted the fork towards him again. “C’mon, try this practice ice cream cake, baby,” she said pleadingly. “It’s got real funfetti cake as a base layer between the ice cream. And the ice cream’s not even ice cream. It’s sorbet--that’s practically fruit. Fruit’s good for you.”

“Real cake?” he said, sighing. A million fucking calories, he thought bitterly, cursing Helen Cho’s notes. She’d encouraged Darcy to encourage him to have a “cheat day.” Brock did not do cheat days. He was a monk about his diet.

“From a box!” Jane called. “It’s Duncan Hines!”

“Processed box cake?” Brock said, pretending to be more horrified. 

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, sighing. She sat the fork down with a thunk and stomped over to the edge of the kitchen to glare at Jane. “Jane, I’m going to kill you!” she hissed. “You know how he is about things in a box!” 

“Sorry,” Jane said, sounding ashamed. Brock poked at the melting sorbet. Was it raspberry? Or strawberry? It was bright pink. The cake had sprinkles in it.

“I know you want this cake, but I want him to at least eat one piece first! I made it for him. He needs to eat things,” Darcy scolded. She lowered her voice. “There’ll be plenty for you. You know he’s like a cat or a picky child, I can barely get him to try things--”

“I heard that,” Brock said. He picked up the fork and took a bite. Darcy turned around.

“I’m sorry--” she said, then she beamed. “You tried it?” She was positively glowing.

“S’good,” he said. “Cold. Fruit ice cream and cake.” 

“Yay!” Darcy said. She smiled at him. “What if I make you sweet potato wedges? Thor peeled and chopped up a bunch of sweet potatoes for us yesterday.”

“She made him!” Jane called. 

“Baked?” he said. 

“Of course,” she said. “I’d never make you fried ones, honey, you know that.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be your birthday?” he said. 

“Don’t try and distract me with birthday talk,” Darcy said. “That’s not for a whole two days.”

“I just don’t want you to be too tired to celebrate,” he insisted, trying to sound reasonable and calm and not panic as she cut another wedge of ice cream cake.

“Jane, your piece is ready,” Darcy called out. He heard Jane’s feet hit the floor and sighed in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sorry, pregnancy shippers, but _no._


	9. Happy, Happy Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Hey,” Darcy said, when Brock got out of the shower that night. He’d gone to the gym and then she’d phoned him to come home just a little early. She sat up in bed. “I know it’s my birthday, but--”

“This is for me?” he said wryly. She’d put on lingerie while he was in the shower.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “You like like this color, right? C’mere.” She tugged at his towel eagerly. But he looked worried.

“I’m not losing muscle mass, am I?” he said, frowning.

“Nope,” she said, eyes lingering on his body. His very attractive body. “But we can always measure, you know,” she said, feeling smug at her own cleverness.

“Measure how?” he said, frowning. 

“I have a fabric tape measure, so I think--” Darcy said, sliding out of bed and getting the measuring tape out of her dresser-- “that we can start with your neck. Like this.” She wrapped the tape around his neck. "And work our way down to your ankles," she said breathily. 

“Uh-huh,” he said. “You strangling me?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she said, standing as close to him as she could and grinning. “Sixteen whole inches,” she said. “Where would you like to go from here?”

“I have options, huh?” Brock said, grinning.

“Well, there’s always the biceps, but you know, I’m a little curious about chest dimensions,” she said, positioning the tape over his nipples. “Is that too tight?” she asked innocently. Brock stared at her. Darcy grinned in response. Slowly, he smirked at her.

“Get in the damn bed,” Brock said, trying to steer her backwards with his hands on her hips.

“But we have a project and I’m not done,” Darcy said. 

“Yes, you are,” he said. 

“Ahhh,” Darcy said, shrieking, as he picked her up. She dropped the tape measure. He was so much fun. She told him as he kneeled over her, eyeing her lingerie. “You’re so freaking gorgeous--and fun.”

“I am fun,” he said, nodding. He leaned down to kiss her. “I’m a fun guy. People don’t know that about me.”

“Yeah,” Darcy whispered, when there faces were close. “But I know.”

“You’re starting the fun without me, huh?” he said. She grinned; she had her hands on him. 

“I can’t help it if you’re not wearing any pants, my hands just have a mind of their own,” Darcy said. “They go….places. Fun places.” He laughed at her--then pushed her lingerie up eagerly.

* * *

The birthday dinner was more noisy than Darcy’s usual ones with Jane and Thor. They decided to reserve a table for a big party at a fun restaurant, so there would be room for more people. Darcy had invited Sharon Carter and Cameron Klein, in addition to Helen Cho. She got some SHIELD crashers, too: some of Brock’s STRIKE guys, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton. Even Captain America himself showed up. He brought her a very fun present. “Oh, Captain, my captain!” Darcy said gleefully, when she opened it. _“Spice: The History of A Temptation?”_

“Nat said you liked books about food,” Steve said, smiling wickedly. Darcy was almost sure he knew she was making Brock eat more, because Clint snickered.

“You hear who gained a _half pound?”_ he said, before Nat elbowed him. There was a roll of thunder. 

“There’s Thor with Helen,” Jane said, craning her neck towards the door. She stood up to meet them. Apparently, the Brock situation had thawed the chill between Jane and Helen. Darcy suspected this was because Jane was videocalling Helen to do impersonations of Brock eating Darcy’s sweet potatoes and steak, but Darcy didn’t care. She glanced at Brock as Helen hugged Jane.

“You okay?” Darcy asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. He was holding her hand under the table. “These assholes are rowdy,” he cracked, “but I’m happy to be here with you.”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning over to nuzzle him. Several people hooted. “Me, too.”

“Hey,” Helen said. “Don’t suck face at the table, I’m going to lose my appetite. I heard this place has bottomless fries?”

“It does!” Darcy said, giggling as Brock kissed her neck. “I made him have some!” 

“Can I have the rest of his fries?” Steve asked someone. Without looking up, Brock pushed the fry basket in Steve’s direction. 

“I think that’s a yes,” Darcy said. 

“Nice plastic tiara,” Helen said. Darcy was wearing one. 

“She’s had that for years,” Jane said.

“Every birthday since 2013,” Darcy said, then she turned to look at Brock. He was smiling at her. 

“You haven’t opened my present yet,” he said in a low voice. 

“I thought that was last night?” Darcy asked, equally flirty.

“Ugh,” Helen said.

“They’re like this,” Jane said.

“Disgusting,” Clint said.

“Shhhh,” Nat told them. “It is sweet.” Brock had passed Darcy a small box. She opened the wrapping paper, then stopped. It was a ring box. 

“Is this what I think it is?” she said.

“Eh, probably not,” he said. Darcy burst out laughing. There were ohhs from the table. She opened the box slowly and laughed harder. “A ring pop?” she said, delighted by his joke. She’d made fun of engagement ring-hunting women in front of him. A woman had practically trampled Darcy during the bouquet toss at a wedding and she and Jane reenacted it sometimes in slo-mo.

“You like blue raspberry, right?” Brock said, grinning. 

“Yes,” Darcy said, laughing and putting it on. “It’s beautiful and delicious. I love it.” She’d just finished repeating the bouquet toss story to the whole table and Jane was doing the sound effects when Brock leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“You wanna pick out a real one with me?” he said. Darcy almost choked on her milkshake. She was nodding her head yes before she could talk. 

“Congratulations,” Steve said, from across the table. It was so noisy, no one else caught on. 

"Thanks, Cap," Brock said, not looking at Steve. He was still beaming at her, Darcy realized.

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos on this one! I had a great time writing it!


End file.
